Through her Eyes
by NeonZangetsu
Summary: Sometimes fate is not kind. Sometimes it can be cruel. Oh yes, most cruel indeed. Daud fails to stop Delilah from completing her ritual; and all the world is changed because of his failure. Because something went wrong. Now she sees the world through the eyes of a little girl, wears a face that is not hers, finds herself slowly tainted by emotions she never wanted. DelilahxCorvo.


**A/N: Alright. I'm gonna ****skip the introduction this time because; I have a confession to make. I may have said this before, but I feel that it needs to be said again, to get my point across. First, I'd like to thank everyone who has been supporting me thus far. I never would have made it as far as I have without all your kindness and support. Which brings me to the reason why I'm writing this author's note.**

**I admit I've been a bit irritated as of late. And no, it doesn't have anything to do with me slowly dying. Its something else.**

**Some of my most recent chapters for my works, such as Counting Stars, Fly in the Ointment, and Die Another Day haven't been received very well. And I gotta admit, it hurts a little. I've worked my butt off on these stories, taking major chunks out of my day and personal life to keep ya'll entertained, and when people get upset because of one sad chapter, or sticking slightly to canon or if things don't go _just _so they start screaming its gets really, really bloody ANNOYING YA KNOW?!**

**I mean, I've been at this for SIX YEARS! I'm even woring on publishing a book for crying out loud! I know what I'm doing here people! Gah! *takes a deep breath* Okay. Better now. But enough of my self-pitying rant. To those who I've upset or dissapointed with some of my works, I say this: make no assumptions. My works are far from finished, and I've stilll got a bit of life left in me yet, before I kick the bucket-providing my treatments don't take. Have patience all of ye, and I promise, these stories and all the rest will surprise you! And to everyone else, thanks so much for your support!**

** I'll try not to dissapoint ya'll! Fair warning though, there is no happy ending in this story...and remember, I own nothing!**

_"I will rule all...!"_

_~?!_

**Empress**

Delilah Copperspoon.

Such a simple, innocuous name. She'd been named after some famous person or another. Born, with nothing but her name. No riches, no power. Forced to work for everything she'd ever had. As a little girl, she'd been a baker's apprentice. Then a painter in Sokolov's circle. But he'd never had her gifts. Never had her mark. She was special. Always had been. Ever since receiving that man's mark she'd known she was was destined for bigger and better things, not some tawdry life as the wife of some nobleman who left her at home with children on her teat.

Her ambition was simply too great for any of that.

Today would be the culmination of years of painstaking work, and months of slaving over an easel. Today, she would not only rule a nation; she would define it. She would purge the city of its corruption and make it an idyllic home for herself and other of her kind. And the rest? Daud, Corvo, and all the rest who stand in her way?

They could go rot.

The Outsider claimed to choose no side, to take no favorites, but she was certain that her lord and master was watching this scene with unusual interest. Daud was coming, of that much she was certain. She'd prepared for him as best she could, and although a small part of her hoped that her sisters would stop him, she knew it would not be. In a way it was almost poetic. In another life she might've loved someone very much like him after all; they both took what they wanted from life and made no apologies. But that was where their similarities ended. She had a purpose. A goal. He was merely a killer for hire-one who'd found his conscience far too late to step away.

Now the time was nearly upon her. Her destiny was nigh. Here in the Void, she began the ritual that would change her life, forever.

With each flick of her wrist, with each stroke of her brush, Delilah called out to the Void, demanding it to obey her whim, "Emily Kaldwin, daughter of Jessamine Kaldwin, heir to the Empire of Isles. I call out to you, from the depths of the Void!" Another flick of the wrist, another stroke of the brush. "I call you with ochre from Morley! I call you with carmine beetle shells! I call you with Serkonan Lazurite! I call you with Viridian bile!"

Yet another flick, yet another stroke. "I tempered the tones of your flesh with Pandyssian chalk. I created this canvas with the very same loom that spun the fabric of your dresses. I created my brushes with the hairs of your very scalp."

One more flick, one more stroke. "Emily! You cannot ignore me, dear child! My well of power is too deep. My reach is too long."

She could feel the cold embrace of the dark magic, as it began to swirl in the air. She put the palette down on a small table near the easel, and slowly prowled back towards the pristine altar, the magic within her paint trailing behind her with every step I took, writhing like a thing alive.

She gripped the magic tightly in my hands, and swirled it through the air. The Void around her began to grow darker, and darker, and darker, as she manipulated the magic, the paint.

She cried out to the Void, gasping as her magic shrouded her, its cold touch brushing her bare skin beneath the dress, "Brush touches paint! Brush, touches canvas! Brush, touches Void! I see you now, Emily Kaldwin! I am breathing your breath. I am feeling what you do. The bright mornings in the Hound Pits Pub, and the bite of the cold night air, in the ruin where you sleep. I can smell the stink of the river!

"Image strikes the eye! Eye touches the mind! Mind touches the Void! I can feel your love for Corvo Attano. I can feel your love for your lost mother. I can feel your love for your caretaker, Callista. I can feel your fear in the night. I can feel your hunger to learn. To become someone important! This is my hunger, too!

"You are becoming mine, dear child! We are nearly finished! Close your eyes, Emily! Close your eyes and sleep forever! Feel the Void open beneath you! Make room for me, and give in to me! Give in to me, now, Emily and let us become one!" This was it! Nearly, she was there!

"Paint flows. Blood flows. Life goes." she called out to the darkened Void, feeling her vision begin to dim. "Out with the old, in with the new! You've lived in these bones long-

_-enough."_

Her hand shot out, unerringly catching the crossbow bolt before it could pierce her head, her magic fizzling and dying as the ritual was interrupted. The iron stung angrily, biting into the skin of her palms, drawing blood to trickle down her arm. She ignored it. After all, what was a little pain in the greater scheme of things. She was so close now, only a few more words and she would finally have her wish. Her dream. She would rule this isle and all that came with it, and in doing so she would create the utopia that this world deserved. _After_ she dealth with this interloper.

"Daud." the word should've been a curse on her lips; instead, she felt them curl into a small smile. "I should've known."

At her back, Delilah could even now feel the portal swirling, beckoning to her. Ignoring her creation she turned her attention the red clad assassin striding down the steps briskly. His eyes were cold and hard, yet a rare spark danced in them, a true anger shining in those dark orbs. He was absolutely furious, she realized, and somewhere deep in her soul she quailed at the sight. Perhaps she'd made a mistake in making an enemy of a killer of his calibre. Perhaps not.

"So its come to this, then." she purred.

"You know I can't let you go through with this."

A light laugh left her lips.

"A little late to find your conscience, isn't it?"

"Didn't your mother warn you to never make an enemy of a witch? You can't possibly be doing this for Emily! Because of _you_, her mother is dead, and decaying in the dirt. Because of _you_, she was sold to a bunch of murderous crooks," She paused momentarily, watching as those words sank into his face. "After what _you've _put that little girl through, do you honestly think that she's fit to be _Empress!?_ No, Emily Kaldwin the First will have the mind of _Delilah Copperspoon_ the First, a girl who did not inherit everything she got…but came to power through the sheer force of her own will. Her own _genius!_"

There were no more words after that. Not for them. No witty banter between enemies. They stood at a crossroads, with the fate of an entire empire hanging in the balance. She watched him draw his blade and ready his wristbow. Readying a hand, she drew her own blade and summoned up a spell, preparing to call her statues to life against her old enemy. A part of her almost felt sad; they were so alike, after all. One would live. The other would die. It was simple and clean.

_I always knew it would come to this._

He pounced and she transversed away, his weapon passing through empty air. Scarce had she reappeared than he was upon her again; then there was no more time for thought. Steel struck steel in a shower of sparks and fire, sending her stumbling backwards. He was stronger than her. Attempting to overpower him would only result in her demise. Scowling she flickered away, reappearing some yards in the distance.

And so they fought.

Deliliah gave credit where credit was due. Daud was good. Very good. He fought with a relentless fury that was never spoken but clearly seen; every stroke of his blade was a masterwork, poetry in motion-so much like her talens with the brush. She could see the skill that had made him legend. Had he perhaps been a few years younger, he might have bested her. But his gifts lay in the realm of physical confrontation, while hers hung in the talents of the supernatural. After that first encounter she stayed at range. She fought not with blinding rage as she might have, but with cold calculation. Strategy.

It saved her life.

Vines were conjured to trip him up. Clones were sent upon him to distract and direct his attention. She harried him from all sides-giving him no time to wield his supernatural gifts. That was not to say that she emerged unscathed; more than once his blade still found her amidst all the copies, opening bloody trenches in her skin. Her left arm went numb from loss of blood. Yet still she fought on. She clawed at his face with her hands-a series of deep gouges carved into his face, blinding him even as his sword claimed three of her fingers. Still they fought on.

Minutes passed. Hours. She knew not how long they fought; only that they did. They became little more than beasts, devoid of logic and reasoning; creatures, each. Determined to end the other, no matter the cost. Yet in the end, there could be only one.

At last, bleeding from a thousand cuts, Daud fell. Delilah very nearly joined him. It was only through a supreme effort of will that she managed to remain upright. He glared up at her, powerless and impotent, unable to believe that he'd ben bested. The sight of that shock was almost enough to make the witch smile.

"You did...well...Daud." she gasped out, coughing up blood. Blood of the Outsider, he'd gotten a lung with that last attack. She'd join him soon at this rate. "But I...

Nothing happened when she tried to cast a spell and end his life. Her gifts refused to come to her, she was utterly empty of power. But she still had her weapon. It would have to do.

Mercilessly, her blade stabbed down into his neck. Daud twitched once, and lay still. The Legend was dead. Not trusting him to stay that way, she wrenched the blade, taking his head clean off his shoulders. With a cry of anger and adulation, she kicked off the grassy isle and into the abyss. It was done

_"Win."_

Weak and broken, Delilah raised her gaze and stared into the Void, taking a moment to savor her triumph. Drink it alll in. A tiny sob of relief fled from her lips. She'd done it. Her sisters were dead, her coven lay in ash and ruins, but she had _survived._ Just as she always had.

She imagined that The Outsider was watching all of this with subtle amusement, intrigued by this most unexpected os outcomes. She was riddled with all manner of wounds, and bleeding heavily from the stomach, but victory was hers. Sweet, glorious victory. But it had come at great was no more time for her to linger on the aftermath of the battle. She felt it in her bones. Her body was dying.

Fading.

The only thing holding it together was her dauntless will, and even that wouldn't last much longer.

But her mind was alive. That was all she needed to be able to complete the ritual. Needed. She needed to enter the portal before...!

Stumbling, fumbling, she clamored toward the white abyss. It opened for her, sucking her broken body in, enveloping her-and then there was pain. She'd known it would hurt, but even so, Delilah couldn't help but yelp in surprise, scream in agony out as her body was torn asunder, her mind transversing space and time to sink into her unwitting host. Somewhere inside of herself, she felt the tiniest pinprick of guilt for her deeeds. She cringed away from it. Emily wouldn't die, she told herself. Not really. She'd simply fall into a deep slumber, one from which she'd never awaken.

Cold fury burned the world white-

* * *

And her eyes opened.

"Gah!"

Delilah lurched out of her bed with a tiny cry of surprise, tossing the tattered sheets aside, brown eyes blearily blinking away the sports from her dream. But it hadn't been a dream. She was here in the Hound Pits Pub-a far distance away from Brigmore Manor and the slaughter that had taken place there hours before_-wait._ A smalll smile of delight curled at her lips as she realized what had happened. Not daring to believe what she'd just seen, what all five of her senses were so clearly telling her.

This was Emily's body. Her body. Delilah nearly squealed.

She stared down at her small hands in delight, her fingers flexing quietly. It was strange, being a child again. Capricious things, these human bodies. It would probably take her years to completely recover her powers-years before the mark of the Outsider became visible on her hand. If it ever did at all. But none of that mattered now. She could feel all the powers thrumming through her, the power of her old body. Magic dancing at the tips of her very fingers, weak, but still present. In time, she would be powerful once again. She would become empress, soon. And then her reign would begin.

A reigh that would never end.

Her eyes roamed across the room, squinting slightly at the morning light. Not her room. The room of another. That was when she saw the Serkonan. He rose from his bed with a yawn, stretching quietly. The man who had been wronged by a terrible conspiracy, the man whom he was going to hunt down all those who'd wronged him and take violent vengeance upon every one of them. She wondered what terrible, horrible justice he might visit upon her should he realize she'd claimed the body of the child who might very well be his daughter.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked in a soft voice.

Delilah started slightly at the sight of him, the sound of his voice. Corvo. Her mind quietly told her this, Emily's memories filling the gaps in her knowledge. Yet even so-despite the fact that the former protector couldn't possibly know who she was and what had happened, the sorceress cringed aside and flinched away from those keen orbs. And then they softened. A large hand reached down, mussing her head much as her father had once done all those years agon. Despite herself, Delilah colored, cheeks flushing slightly.

"Corvo...

This was the man destinted to "protect" her until she no longer had any use for him. It should've been easy to dismiss him out of hand, even as Emily. What the devil was the matter with her? She fought to tear herself away yet found it utterly impossible. Were these Emily's feelings or hers? She couldn't make sense of them. Had something gone wrong with the ritual? Was the girl still inside of here, somehow, someway? No, she was gone and asleep. It shouldn't be possible. Couldn't be.

No. It didn't matter. She had all of her life to figure this out. A few mixed feelings weren't going to stop her, not now.

"Is something wrong?"

Delilah simply couldn't help herself as Corvo asked that question. It was all too perfect. She _laughed. _The voice that issued forth belonged solely to Emily, and yet it was now her voice. And in saying so, she sealed the fate of an entire Empire.

_"Not a thing."_

**A/N: Aye, it be true! I've been bitten by the Dishonored bug! I just finished playing the last DLC recently, and I found myself utterly captivated by it. I did promise ya'll a pure Dishonored story based on Delilah, didn't I? She bested Daud and actually succeeded in her sordid little ritual-who knows what the consequences will be of those actions? Ah, but that is another tale for another day. I hope you've enjoyed it, dear readers! Let me know if I should continue!**

**So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...**

**...Review, Would Ya Kindly?**

**R&R! =D**


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